Metaphors
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: In which Draco is capable of better things, and it only takes Charlie and a dragon egg to discover it.:: For Sam.


_First and foremost, for Sam. Happy birthday, beautiful._

 **Written For:**

 **Convince Me Competition (CharlieDraco)**

 **Pocket Morty Competition: Egg Morty (write about something hatching from an egg)**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank-**

 **Misc HP Locations: Romanian Dragon Sanctuary**

 **All Colors: forest green**

* * *

" I don't know," Charlie says, pushing a hand through his hair. "Do you really think Malfoy would be suited for Romania? From the lap of luxury to the dragon stables? Bit of a step down for him."

Harry grimaces. "He has to be pretty desperate to come to me for help," he says. "You're the only one I know who can help, Charlie."

Charlie purses his lips, tapping a finger to his chin, lost in thought. He's never cared too much for the Malfoys, and they have never cared for the Weasleys. Even if they'd had a last minute change of heart in the battle, he doesn't feel any love or sympathy for them.

But Harry's asking, and Charlie- as well as the entire wizarding community- owes Harry so much.

With a sigh, he shrugs. "Soul searching," he mutters with a roll of his eyes. "Didn't know the Malfoys had souls."

"Be nice."

…

Charlie leans against a post as Draco steps onto the reservation. The younger wizard looks at his surroundings, his lip curling in distaste.

"You wanted to find yourself," Charlie says, amused. "Welcome to Romania."

Draco sets his bags at Charlie's feet, waiting expectantly.

"Nope," Charlie says shortly. "No handouts here. You want something done, you do it yourself. We don't have servants here."

"I'm supposed to carry my bags?" Draco asks, incredulous.

"You have a wand. Surely you know how to use a Levitating Charm," Charlie says dryly. "Come along. We'll get you settled in, then you'll start your first day of work."

"Work?" Draco echoes. "I didn't sign up to work. Besides, you're supposed to have special training before you can handle dragons! You're trying to get me killed!"

"Hardly. It's not like I'm going to let you go toe to toe with a Hungarian Horntail," Charlie laughs. "You'll be in the hatchery with me."

Draco grumbles. Charlie expects him to turn right around and return to England. He's pleasantly surprised when the younger boy follows behind.

"I came to Romania to find myself, too, you know," Charlie tells him. "It's amazing what you can discover about yourself with a little sweat and hard work."

"We'll see."

…

Draco looks around at the eggs, each nestled in a bed of enchanted embers. "I thought dragons were capable of hatching their own eggs," he notes.

"They are. But these are our orphans. Some dragons lay eggs at a late age and never live to see their young. Others are too weak to survive the process," Charlie explains, coming to a stop in front a large egg that resembles a ball of forest green leather.

"Sad," Draco says, crouching down and gazing at the egg in amazement.

"It is," Charlie agrees. "Dragons are beautiful creatures, but their numbers are dwindling. One day, they may become nothing more than creatures in a fairytale.

Draco reaches out his hand. Charlie watches curiously as he touches the egg. The gentleness surprises him. He's always thought of the Malfoys as a bunch of brutes, only capable of nastiness and pain.

"Maybe they have souls after all," he muses.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

…

Draco sits across from him at dinner, his pale face streaked with ash, his hair disheveled and wet with sweat.

"You said you wanted to find yourself," Draco says. "How did you do it?"

Charlie shrugs. "I got away from everyone I knew. Maybe I didn't find myself. Maybe I just reinvented myself. It's easy to do when no one knows who you are."

Draco is quiet for a moment. He pushes his food around on his plate with his fork. "I did bad things," he says at last.

"I know."

"I didn't have a choice. My father- I-" Draco shakes his head. "I made my choice."

Charlie nods.

"Everyone knows. Even if they don't know my reasons, they know what I was," Draco continues. "The way they looked at me… You look at me like that, too."

Charlie drops his gaze, the faintest flicker of guilt in his stomach. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't deserve sympathy."

"Then what are you looking for?"

Another stretch of silence. Charlie chances a glance at him. The pain in his sharp eyes is almost heartbreaking.

"I need to know that I'm capable of better things."

…

Draco is already in the hatchery by the time Charlie makes his way there. He finds him sitting on the floor, watching the same forest green egg with the same fascinated eyes.

Charlie hesitates, unable to keep his eyes off of him. The smallest of smiles tugs at his lips. "You weren't at breakfast," he notes, tossing the younger boy a piece of toast.

"I wanted to see it again."

"You can look at it all you want. You have a week," Charlie chuckles, sitting beside him.

"There's life in there."

"Obviously," Charlie says, rolling his eyes. "Are you having an existential moment? Realizing how small we are in the scheme of things?"

"Well, now that you mention it," Draco says softly.

Charlie takes his hand. Draco's arm jerks, but he doesn't pull away.

"Life goes on," Draco muses. "This dragon lost its mother, but life goes on."

"It does," Charlie says.

Draco looks at him, eyes wide. "It goes on for us, too, doesn't it? I lost parts of me after the war, but the bloody world is still spinning."

"That's the way the world works," Charlie says with a nod. "We lose things. We lose people. But we keep going."

"You lost your brother, but you didn't stay with your family."

Charlie flinches, dropping Draco's hand. "Everyone deals with grief differently. I had to come back here. It helps to stay busy. Keeps the demons from catching up with you."

Draco places his hand on Charlie's thigh, and Charlie is all too aware of the heat the floods his face, heat that has nothing to do with the embers before them.

…

"Charlie! Charlie! Come quickly!"

Charlie blinks awake, his vision blurry with sleep. It takes several seconds to register Draco beside him. "What's wrong?"

"Come see!" Draco says, and Charlie realizes that it's excitement, not distress in his voice.

Curious, Charlie climbs out of bed, not bothering to change into robes or even put on his shoes. He follows Draco into the hatchery.

"I wanted to look at it again," Draco says eagerly. "And it started twitching. There was a small crack, and- Look!"

The crack has spread now from top to bottom. Bits of shell have splintered off, falling into the embers with a spark.

"Oh, you cheeky devil," Charlie laughs. "You're not due for another two days."

"Life isn't always what you expect it to be."

Charlie rolls his eyes. "Still using the egg as a metaphor for life?" he asks in amusement, grabbing a pair of thick gloves from the wall. "Stay back. Remember, baby dragons are even more unpredictable than adults."

Draco nods but doesn't move too far. Charlie almost laughs. He's never seen anyone so eager to be this close to a dragon before. Even new recruits are too timid.

A wing bursts from the egg, then another. A spiked tail follows. Charlie reaches in carefully brushing the shell away. "There we go," he urges in gentle tones. "Don't be shy. Grab some gloves."

The head pokes out at last. The dragon gives a feeble coughssparks dancing from its mouth.

Draco appears beside Charlie, gloves in place. "Can I hold him?"

Charlie picks the dragon up, giving it a quick inspection. "Her," he corrects, passing her off. "Be gentle."

Draco takes her into his arms, eyes swimming with admiration. "She's beautiful," he says. "Hello there, pretty girl."

Another cough. The spark hits Draco in his face. Charlie grabs her quickly before Draco can drop her in a panic. "Are you okay?"

Draco rubs the red patch that extends from his jaw to cheek. "Ow! I've never been burned by a dragon before," he says.

"Not many can cross that one off their bucket list," Charlie laughs, grateful that Draco isn't making a scene or demanding the dragon but put to death. "Let's drop her off and get you taken care of."

…

"Is she okay?"

"Are you okay?" Charlie counters, retrieving a small tub of burn ointment from the drawer.

"It hurts," he admits. "Do you ever get used to it?"

Charlie shakes his head. "Not really. Another metaphor for life?"

Draco shrugs. "Don't care much for metaphors right now. It really does hurt."

"Dragonfire isn't like regular fire," Charlie agrees, dipping his fingers in the ointment and gently rubbing it onto the burn.

Draco closes his eyes at the touch, his back arching ever so slightly. On a whim, Charlie drops his hand to Draco's chin, tilting his head back and placing a quick kiss on his lips.

"What was that for?" Draco asks, eyes opening.

"You did better things," Charlie whispers.

"Maybe I should do better things more often if that's the reward," Draco teases. "I could use a drink."

"It's six in the morning!"

"Oi! I've just given birth. I feel like I'm entitled to a drink," Draco says.

With a snort, Charlie helps Draco to his feet. "A pint would be good," he agrees.


End file.
